Secrets and Seduction: A Dark Boarding School Romance (Preston Academy Book 1)

I sat in class with Leilah on my left and Noah on my right. She hadn’t returned yesterday and judging by her overtired expression, she had gotten little sleep.

Penelope Arden walked into the classroom, gait prideful, hair perfectly blow-dried and skin flawless.

Her gaze, like that of almost everyone this morning, fell on me. Ms. Arden’s eyes, which normally shone with fake joy, held a certain hardness today.

Perhaps she was also still taken by the events of the previous night. Most of my classmates were. I could see it in their faces, practically smell their fear. One thing was certain: no one felt safe at Preston Academy anymore.

‘Open your book and get out your homework,’ she said, pulling me out of my grim thoughts.

There was something strange about this woman, a coldness that I couldn’t describe.

Noah nudged me with his elbow and pointed out the page they had stopped at last time. Most of the stuff I still knew from high school, so I wasn’t too worried about not keeping up.

‘Do you have news on the dead girl?’ I whispered to Leilah.

She turned her head barely noticeably to face me, her black hair covering part of her eyes.

“You better let it go, Avery.” I frowned. What was that supposed to mean? I literally stumbled across a corpse.

“Doesn’t the school host a mourning ceremony?” My roommate looked at me as if I had just declared the earth was flat.

“We’re just criminals to them. Never expect them to see you as anything but that.”

I quickly stuffed the last bit of pasta into my mouth before I had to leave for my tutoring session with Mr. Preston.

During the lunch break, I was stared at from all sides. Some whispered shamelessly and others walked past me so rapidly for fear I would hunt them down here in the cafeteria.

Shaking my head, I looked back down at my tablet. My feed on the social platform was overflowing with posts about my classmate. Literal groups with conspiracy theories and questionable explanations were made.

Even my name came up here and there and I read through the comments with amusement. I was many things, but certainly not a murderer.

I knocked briefly on Mr. Preston’s door and, as usual, did not wait for a response, but entered right away.

A step later, I stopped dead in my tracks, perplexed by the other people in the room—the principal and two police officers.

“Good afternoon, Ms. James. These gentlemen are here to ask you a few questions. Mr. Preston was kind enough to sacrifice some of his tutoring time for this,” she said charmingly, but I saw behind her facade, saw the woman who probably didn’t waste another thought on Olivia.

“Of course. How can I help?” I asked as I let my satchel drop to my feet and sat down in my usual spot.

One policeman, short and around forty, cleared his throat before speaking. He seemed a little nervous. I couldn’t blame him. Probably, there has been nothing exciting happening in their town for a long time, and now they’re completely stunned by a murder.

“We know you haven’t recovered from yesterday’s shock, but please tell us what happened and don’t leave out any details.”

I swallowed, looked first at the principal, then at Mr. Preston, who had regained his cold, indifferent expression.

It was time to put on my best show. Normally, when I lied, people could see right through me, at least that’s what my father claimed. I didn’t want them to think I had gone crazy.

I told the policemen what had happened last night but left out the thing about the radiating danger and the creepy aura. Besides, they didn’t need to know about the conversation between my professor and me in which I had shared my worries with him.

Meanwhile, his colleague noted all the information and nodded at the relevant parts. Finally, they finished their questioning, packed their things, and left the room with a worried expression on their faces.

‘Very well. Go back to work. I expect the same performance from you as from all the other students, murder or not,’ she said in a snooty tone.

Before leaving the room, she turned her head in my direction one last time, her gaze wary. ‘And Ms. James? I have my eyes on you.’

It took all my strength not to roll my eyes. Of course, she had them on me, on all of us, and she made us feel it every day.

Mr. Preston sat down at his elegant desk and pulled out a pack of cigarettes from the drawer. I watched him put one between his lips and light it. A deep drag later, the familiar scent reached my nostrils and made me sigh.

‘May I?’ I asked, expecting an extremely annoyed rebuff. But instead of him making a mean comment, he handed me his cigarette like a joint.

I felt the bit of moisture on the butt and couldn’t help but think that our lips had touched the same spot. Pull yourself together, Avery, I scolded myself.

He looked at me, studying my fingers as they held the cigarette and my face as I took another greedy drag. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the smoke.

All too soon he took it away and I silently mourned the taste, but I couldn’t protest either. Maybe he would never give me the chance again.

‘Sit down at the piano and play.’ I crossed my arms, having thought we had long since left this game behind. ‘I hate to repeat myself, so do as I say.’

Clenching my hands into fists, I followed his cruel order.

The dusty piano awaited me like an enemy, taunting me like a bully. With trembling hands, I tuned the first notes and, as predicted, failed miserably. I tried again, and again, and again.

My anger boiled over and I banged my fist against the once white keys, eliciting a deep tone from the instrument. My professor looked at me with amusement.

‘That sounded horrible,’ he admitted, and I could see the challenge in his eyes.

‘Oh, yeah? Well, do it better,’ I returned in defiance.

Unexpectedly, he rose from his leather chair and approached me with confident steps. The piano bench barely had space for the two of us, causing me to almost fall to the side as he sat down next to me. His leg rubbed against mine and I felt the warmth radiating from his body. Mr. Preston towered over me a great deal, and I tilted my head back to look up at him.

He touched the keys, and my mouth fell open. His fingers brought out the sweetest of melodies, playing a song that was heartbreakingly beautiful. It sounded almost not of this time, and I envied him for the ability to play so exquisitely. A true talent, a musical genius, was sitting next to me and I was near to tears.

“How?” That was all I could get out.

“I learned from the best. Play with me,” he whispered.

He removed one hand, and I replaced it as if hypnotized by the sound, having memorized the notes and the flow as if I had played this song all my life, as if my soul knew it by heart.

At first, my fingers tentatively glided over the left half of the piano. Then I became more confident, more ambitious, lost in the music. All too soon I was torn from my dream when one of my fingers twitched and I ruined the song and with it, the moment.

“I’m sorry I–“ Before I could say anything else, he silenced me.

“Don’t apologize, not for this.”

My protest dissolved into thin air as his index finger grazed mine, sending a thousand tiny lightning bolts sweeping through my veins.

We remained in this position but did not speak a word. I was confused, and, in a certain way, intrigued by him. Only he knew what was behind his facade.

My lips opened slightly, and I felt his breath on my forehead.

“Keep playing,” he finally said in his raspy voice and rose. The surrounding air suddenly felt far too cold.

Some time passed, during which I gave us both an earache and my frustration boiled over.

Finally, he spoke the long-awaited words and dismissed me.

“Isn’t your friend picking you up today?” my professor asked dryly, but I could tell there was more to it, so I decided to push it further.

“No, I’ll meet him at my place later.” He snorted.

“I don’t think so,” he countered with disdain, as if he had control over my free time.

“And why not?” I crossed my arms.

“Because I don’t want to.” He copied my posture.

“Then what do you want, professor?” I gave him a crooked smile and watched his mask crumble for a moment before he fixed it.

“That you wouldn’t talk so much.” With that, he let me go and returned his attention to his paperwork, but at the last second, I saw him try to suppress a smile.

The library at this boarding school didn’t have a coherent system. Books weren’t sorted alphabetically, nor by genre or publisher.

I had been spinning in circles for several minutes, still not finding the right book for tomorrow’s class. We had a few chapters to read, and I didn’t feel like doing detention besides my tutoring sessions.

The last students were still lingering in corners, whispering things to each other, or typing on their tablets. I wondered how anyone could just read with this crappy light.

After another round in which I didn’t find what I was looking for, I discovered the book a few rows up, out of my reach. Annoyed, I pulled my skirt down a little and placed my feet on the two lowest shelves to pull myself up.

Just as my fingers were about to touch the red leather cover, someone grabbed me from behind and a shrill sound escaped me. Before my eyes realized who was standing behind me, my nose caught the familiar scent—Mr. Preston. He pushed me up, hands tight around my waist.

I grabbed the book and exhaled in relief when he put me back down. My back was pressed against his firm chest, and I felt his heart hammering against my blouse.

“Thank you,” I whispered without moving. He leaned forward so that his chin rested on my shoulder.

“Watch out next time, or you’ll break your neck.”

Only a quiet Mhm came over my lips.

Finally, I turned around. His face was much too close to mine, and he made no move to step back, so I did instead and bumped my back against the shelf. Mr. Preston came closer so that barely a few handbreadths separated us.

A golden glow wrapped around his black hair, his shirt more casual than in class. The dim light from above cast a shadow on his face, hiding it from the world so that only I could see it.

My eyes met his, but I couldn’t interpret his gaze, or rather didn’t want to.

“Don’t look at me like that, Avery,” he whispered, his hot breath tickling my ear.

“What do you mean?” There was a kind of provocation in my tone that I didn’t know existed.

‘You know exactly what I mean. Stop it.’

I was about to protest when he turned his back on me and walked over to one of the tables, the wood already aging and darker in some places.

My gaze fell on Penelope Arden, who sat down next to him and seductively threw back her hair to expose her bare shoulders. So that’s why he was here. He had a date with her.

Like a weirdo, I watched them for a few more moments until I finally stepped away, showed the librarian my card and left this place.

Leilah hummed along to some tune from her tablet, and I tried to focus on the last few pages of the book.

We were both in our pajamas, not planning on going anywhere, not when there was still a murderer on the loose.

“What do you want to wear for Halloween?” she asked me out of nowhere. I thought about it, but couldn’t decide on an outfit.’

“I don’t know yet. I was hoping you could lend me something nice.” She nodded cheerfully. “Do they allow alcohol?” A little distraction would do us all good.

“No, and it’s better that way, believe me. Things can get pretty…out of hand when you let criminal kids get drunk.” That sounded pretty reasonable. I certainly didn’t want to clash with anyone and risk my place here.

“Besides, the entire faculty will be present, so it’s going to be very civil.” She winked at me, and I couldn’t help but grin.Content provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

“Penelope Arden, too? She doesn’t seem like the kind of person who likes to go to parties.”

“If Mr. Preston goes, she goes,” she stated with a shrug.

I became suspicious.

“Why?” My question should sound as casual as possible. Truthfully, I didn’t even care.

“Oh, that’s an interesting story. They were engaged for a while until he broke up with her.” Engaged? I couldn’t believe my ears.

“But he’s just…” To be honest, I didn’t even know exactly how old he was.

“27,” Leilah added, “It’s a family thing with them. Their fathers are very…conservative, to put it nicely. Anyway, she’s still not over him.”

Okay, at that age you weren’t too young to get married, but somehow, I couldn’t picture Mr. Preston as a loving husband.

Poor Penelope, though. Then again, I didn’t care much about her either, just like she didn’t care about me.

Leilah’s tablet vibrated, and she read the message with a certain fire in her eyes.

“I have to go now. Besides, I’m hungry.” I looked at her, perplexed.

“First, we just ate, and second, are you completely stupid? There could be a killer outside.” She rolled her eyes playfully.

“I’ll be just fine, I promise. And I’m not talking about food.”

With an air kiss and a suspicious smile, she disappeared through the door before I could convince her to stay.

I dropped back and stared at the ceiling, the wood dark and polished. Mr. Preston had not texted me again that evening, and I wondered if it had something to do with our encounter at the library.